


Miraculous Music

by AmyNChan



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Flute - Freeform, I don't know how to AU, Kind of making it up as I go?, Music, Piano, Piano and Flute AU, X'D, halp my life, music is life, so I'm posting it here too, was popular on tumblr, we'll see how this goes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-08-09 22:10:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7819168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyNChan/pseuds/AmyNChan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He can't stop playing, but he does so alone.  Until a new and nameless neighbor joins in on the fun.</p>
<p>(Also known as I have no idea what I'm doing and you're totally welcome to take a chair, grab some popcorn, and laugh as I horribly fail at this.  XD)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A piano and flute AU that literally no one asked for.  X’D

There was never a set schedule on when inspiration would strike him.  His muse was fickle, and often found the most inopportune moments to make itself known.

Adrien Agreste sighed as he picked the note off his apartment door.  It was most likely yet another complaint about the noise which came from within.  He had already been resigned to playing the keyboard using his headphones instead of his actual piano from the hours of midnight to five in the morning.  While the music was there, it simply was not the same.

He had not the heart to open the note to see if his hours of music had been chopped down even further.

Instead, he entered his apartment and placed the note on the kitchen counter, not even a moment passing after that before a black blur shot out from his bedroom to greet him.

“Hey, Plagg,” he announced, a worn smile on his features.  Despite the bad day he had already endured, his cat somehow managed to keep him cheerful.  Yes, Plagg liked to mess with his furniture and he sometimes came home to an open fridge and his covers rumpled and the television on, but the cat was good company.  Even if the black cat liked to cause mischief, Adrien never had to fear being alone.  For some reason, instead of sleeping on the bed that the boy had bought for him, Plagg chose to spend every night nuzzled against Adrien’s chest, purring until his human had fallen asleep.

Adrien appreciated that.

Plagg opened his mouth and a pitiful whine escaped right on cue.  Adrien chuckled as he turned to the cat’s dish bowl, which had been full that morning.  As expected, it was now empty.

“You know you’re going to get fat one of these days,” Adrien scolded lightly.  Plagg meowed indignantly.  Adrien snorted a chuckle.  “I guess that makes me your enabler…”

Plagg’s response was to rub against his owner’s leg until the bowl was filled appropriately once more.  The cat then abandoned ship to sink his teeth into another generously provided meal.

What would he do with that cat?

Adrien chuckled to himself as he turned to inspect the rest of his apartment.  While his father had insisted on paying for something nicer, something roomier, Adrien had planted his feet squarely upon getting this apartment in particular upon his eighteenth birthday, three years ago.  It was the right size for one person and he had been able to leave a personal touch on every square inch.  His modelling pictures never made it over the threshold, but far less formal pictures such as selfies among old friends and childhood family portraits were hung with care.  Tacky stickers from general stores also made their way around the living space, but phrases and puns were placed in a way that they just seemed less so.  Shelves were sparse, but they held treasured knick knacks and gifts from over the years.  The most elegant possession in the entire apartment was his piano, and that was only because the piano had been his mother’s and his father had insisted that he take it with him.  It was a request that Adrien was only too happy to oblige.

While the apartment was too small according to his father, it was cozy enough for Adrien.  The fact that he could make such a space feel like a home always made him feel better.

Plagg made him feel less alone.  His apartment made him feel as though he had an impact on the world around him.  His mother’s piano made him feel more alive.

The sound of fluttering paper jarred him from his thoughts.  Adrien turned to see that Plagg had temporarily found something more entertaining than his food.

The note he had found on the door.

“Plagg, don’t—!” Adrien reached for the note, aiming to gather it from the cat before any permanent damage was—

_Rip!_

Adrien felt the color drain out of his face and hoped desperately that this paper—whatever it was—was not official or in need of returning.  While he had gotten the bigger portion, a little less than a quarter of it was still in Plagg’s paws, the cat thoroughly enjoying what scrap he had managed to hold on to.

Adrien sighed.  He might as well read the note now and figure out if the remainder was worth salvaging.  He opened the paper only to be surprised.

The stationary was pink with black dots swirling around the corners.  The script was not typed in that official font he had come to dread, but in a swirling cursive that was somehow easy to read.

_Hello!_

_I moved into the building yesterday and I couldn’t help but hear your beautiful piano playing.  You’re very good!_

_If it’s not too much trouble, I was wondering if you could play The River Flows In You by Yiruma?  It’s a beautiful song and I…_

_Anyways, if you read this no…_

_From your new nei…_

_P.S…_

Adrien’s eyes widened as he read the note.  He turned quickly to his cat, eager to gather the rest of the note, only to find that Plagg had already had the pleasure of tearing the remainder into tiny shreds.

“Plagg,” the boy moaned, looking at the shreds.  But those were not just shreds to him, those shreds were the slaughtered chance of finding a new friend.

How was he going to find that person and thank them now?  How was he going to be able to talk to them?  How was he going to be able to tell them how much it meant to him to find someone who actually liked hearing him play?

Adrien sulked as he watched his cat play with the shreds.  A new friend and it was his own bad luck that he had put off reading the note until it was half-destroyed.

Wonderful.

He looked at the intact portion of the note in his hand and flipped it over.  The spots danced playfully on the paper and the writing was neat.  The request was polite, and the words seemed sincere.  The thought of it made him smile, but also piqued his curiosity.  Why didn’t they come and ask directly?  How would they know if he played their request?  What else did they want to say?

Adrien glanced over to his piano.  He had been hit by inspiration last night at about eight.  He had been hit by nostalgia of happier times and that was what he had played until his midnight curfew.  He had tried to continue on the keyboard, but it had been useless.  The machine could not capture what he had been going for, despite how hard it tried.

A quick glance at the clock told him it was just upon the eight o’clock hour.

Should he play?  And if he did, how would the other person hear?

Most importantly, what did he hope to accomplish if they did?

* * *

Marinette Dupain-Cheng paced in her room.  There were several reasons for her to be stressed.  Her new job began in the morning.  Her belongings had not yet been unpacked.  Her audition was coming up in a few days.  She had just given her name and address to a complete stranger.

A complete stranger.  By note!  Because she had liked his music!  She had no idea who even lived in that apartment!  The neighbors had only said the ‘young man who stays up too late playing the piano’!  She groaned as her bottom hit the floor and her knees crept up to meet her forehead.

To be completely fair, the music had been completely enchanting and had energized her to get over half of her unpacking done in one night.  It had surprised her when the music had cut off suddenly at about 12:10 in the morning and her surprise had gone a step further when her exhaustion had caught up with her, leaving her passed out on the floor until seven o’clock in the morning.

She should have been productive today.  She should have worked with her fabrics.  She should have focused a bit on unpacking some more. She should have face timed with her parents for longer than thirty minutes.  She should have practiced for her audition.

But noooo…  she simply _had_ to agonize over the music she had heard last night.  She just _had_ to contact the mysterious player.  She just _had_ to send him a note to ask him about helping with her audition.

Why, why, _why_ did she not think this through!?

A nudge against her side brought her from her thoughts.  She turned her attention to the beautiful ginger cat by her side, staring at her with patient and piercing blue eyes.  Marinette exhaled against the bundling nerves in her stomach and smiled at her dear friend.

“Oh, Tikki, I’m so nervous,” she admitted.  Saying it aloud helped.  Slightly.  “What if he thinks I’m a weirdo?  What if he thinks I’m stalking him?  Oh, Tikki, I don’t even know his _name_!  I didn’t think this through at all…”

Before Marinette could hide behind her knees again, Tikki jumped with all the lithe grace a cat could possibly own and landed nimbly in the gap between her owner’s legs and abdomen.  She then began a rumbling sound and pushed her head against Marinette’s neck, purring firmly.

Marinette figured that if Tikki could speak, she would be telling her owner the same thing as yesterday and the day before and the day before that:  to not worry so much.

While the message was repetitive from time to time, the young woman could definitely say she appreciated it.  She was twenty-one, but still needed her head screwed on right by her friends every once in a while.

Marinette rubbed the top of her companion’s head, grateful that she did not have to go through this living transition alone.  Her parents had allowed her to stay with them until now, and she was grateful, but it was passed time for her to strike out on her own.  She would always have their support, but being separated from them like this was strange and disorienting.  Having Tikki around helped.

Having good music helped, too.

Wait.

Marinette’s eyes flew open, as open as the window above her.  Arpeggios and warmups were floating through her window; the piano notes clear on such a light breeze.  Her heart thundered in her chest, excitement and anticipation running through her veins.

He was playing, though only time would tell if he took her up on her request.  As she reached for her case, she really hoped he would.

* * *

Adrien allowed himself to run through his warmups with an absent mind as he read over the music once more.  It was in common time with a beat of about sixty-five beats per minute.  A moderate pace, but once he saw the rest of the music he could see its appeal.  Key of A, it was not too difficult to see which note went where.

But it was the fact that he was sight reading this for the first time and that he did not want to disappoint the mysterious person on the other side of the note.

He ran over the key of A again, just to ensure that he had it down.  It was no surprise that he did.  His teacher of twelve years had done their job very well.

He took a deep breath and looked out the window.  He had opened it in order to be heard.  In order for the mysterious person to hear him and know that their request had been seen.

He hoped that he could also convey how happy he was to receive it as well.

He looked down at his piano and began.  The notes alternated and the tempo was slow, but the song flowed like its name suggested.  Like water, like a river, like…

A flute?

His hands jerked on the piano, causing him to lose his place.  The flute faltered and squeaked and died as well.

Was… was that the requester?

His heart thundered in his chest.  They were listening.  They were _listening!_   And…  and they wanted to join in…

Adrien scanned the music once more, hoping that another run through would solidify what he was quickly memorizing.  After wiping his suddenly sweaty hands on his pants, he began again.

Fifteen seconds later, the flute picked up as well.  It was a little shaky and he could pick up trace amounts of nervousness from how the instrument’s tone trembled, but it steadily became stronger.

Suddenly, flute and piano were on the same wavelength, matching pace and rhythm and notes with absolute fluidity.  Adrien let the music and the sheet carry him all the way to the end of the song, the flute’s musical dance winding down just as his own.

Oh, how bittersweet.

When the song ended, he allowed his hands to still over the keys, a feeling blossoming in his chest. It was warm and encompassed him all the way down to his fingers and toes.  Plagg jumped onto his lap and the movement snapped him from his shocked state.  He gave his cat a dopey grin as he scratched behind the cat’s ear.

“Plagg, I have to find them…”

Until that point, until he did find the mysterious flute player, he would be content with this.  A mysterious duet in the moonlight with someone who appreciated music just as much as he.

He would be content.

* * *

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gGdSQhX8XME>  <<<le music

<http://cdn.pcwallart.com/images/black-cat-clipart-wallpaper-4.jpg>  <<<le Plagg

<http://image.wikifoundry.com/image/1/Th9IPpXgAxX_0BbgT0e65Q145238/GW500H387>  <<<le Tikki


	2. The Chapter 2, which everyone wanted

The sun rose majestically over the streets of Paris, gently gracing every bit of cobblestone pavement with its magical presence.  Dewdrops hung from blades of grass in the early morning and a chill breeze blew through every nook and cranny.

“Ah-choo!”

And woke unsuspecting flute players who forgot to close their windows the night before.

Marinette shivered and clung to her blankets in vain.  She had not yet unpacked the comforter, too enraptured by the impromptu performance in order to do something so sensible.  She had waited up as late as she could, wondering if the player would follow with the rest of the request to join her for a cup of hot chocolate.

The hours had dredged on and on until her eyelids had simply fallen, tricking her into a fitful night’s worth of rest.  Now that she was being mercilessly yanked from the realm of sleep, she had no desire to leave it.  Her blankets were her family, and just how betrayed would they feel if she abandoned them?

Tikki meowed from her place next to her human, pawing at the young woman’s face.  Marinette pouted.

“No rest for the weary, then?” she asked, silently pleading with her cat to let her have at least half an hour’s worth of sleep more.  Tikki gently batted her face once again.  Marinette sighed with a dramatically mouthed ‘why me?’.

Tikki pushed her head onto her charge’s neck, urging the woman to move.  Marinette, incapable of denying her cat for the moment, obliged by pulling herself away from her blankets (what a traitor!) and making her way to the kitchen.  The dark haired girl yawned widely before another sneeze came from her nose.

She hurried back to the bedroom and shut her window.

Tikki watched with those patient blue eyes of hers as Marinette went around her new apartment, fussing with this and that in order to find every object a new home.  She had already unpackaged a table and brought in her chair.  Her sewing machine was still boxed up, but at least said box was actually on the table instead of on the floor.  Her bed frame had yet to be put together, but having the mattress on the floor would do until she could find the actual directions on how to build it correctly.  Her flute case still lay on said mattress from where she had cast it aside last night in her hurry to join in on the musical fun.

A mixture of anxiety and excitement washed through her when she thought about the previous night’s music.  She remembered the drop in her stomach when he had stopped playing.  The uncertainty she had felt about the possibility of getting one of the notes wrong.  The relief when his piano sounded once more with the same song.  The confidence that had bloomed when they had sounded so in harmony.  Music always made her feel at peace, but that performance, when the music had flowed just right, had sent her soaring.

Her anxiety had returned when the piano had ceased for the rest of the evening.  It had gotten even worse when he failed to show up.

Marinette sighed as she glanced over at the mugs.  When she had put them out last night, they had been warm to the point she had feared getting a burn if she spilled.  Now they were cold and tasted bland.  She poured the beverages into the sink and began to wash the mugs.  Tikki came closer and rubbed herself against Marinette’s leg.  The young woman turned to her companion with a tired smile.

“Guess I lucked out, huh?” she asked as she put the mugs up to dry.  “I got to play, but I didn’t have to meet him.  I didn’t even know what I was going to _say_.”

Tikki meowed quietly, patiently.  Marinette’s smile seemed to wake slightly at that as she bent down to scratch Tikki’s ears affectionately.  “Maybe I’ll figure that out later.  After all, he knows where I live.  He’ll probably try to talk to me today since we were up a bit late last night…”

Marinette chuckled to herself as she glanced around the apartment.  Yes, this was going to be a good place to live.  Especially with her new job—

“HOLY FUDGE CROISSANTS, I’M LATE!”

* * *

“…and we should have a few new interns coming in today, so the shoot might take a bit longer than usual,” the photographer was saying.  Adrien heard the words and knew the message, but everyone in the room could tell that a majority of his mind was elsewhere.  He knew it was on the mysterious player from the night before.  Who could it be…?

“Of course,” the young man replied, attempting to give the impression of having given his utmost attention to the conversation.  Only the photographer bought it.  “How much longer do you think they’ll need?”

And the photographer only bought it because Adrien could still pretend to get things done.  “Normally I’d say about an hour or so, but it appears as though there are some troubles with the design section.  Their new intern only arrived five minutes ago.”

“Oh.”

“Their portfolio seemed to be very impressive, and given that it’s the first day on the job and an early morning shoot at that, the head of design today decided to give the poor girl a break,” the photographer said, clicking his tongue.  “Clearly they were not aware that such irresponsible behavior will set us back another—”

“Is twenty minutes really that much of a bother, Vincent, darling?” a voice asked, interrupting the photographer’s rant.  Both model and photographer turned to see an older woman with half-moon glasses on her face, a smart suit, and her short white hair bobbed without a strand out of place.  In her hands, she nursed a piping cup of coffee.

“ _Non_ , twenty minutes is barely enough to work up a sweat,” the photographer stated, rolling his eyes with exaggerated force.  “But your new intern will cost us precious _hours_ of adequate sunlight!  This light is _magnifico_ and yet we have nothing for the _modello_ to wear!”

“Really?  Because you seem to be aware that my new intern has already arrived, but not quite informed that she already has three outfits waiting for him.  I thought we were waiting on _your_ new interns,” the woman said, a smirk resting on her features.  The photographer blanched before he began to bark instructions.  The words which flew from his mouth were a myriad of technical terms which went right over Adrien’s head.  As usual.

“Best hurry, dear,” the woman advised with a glint in her eye.  “If we’re lucky, we should be done in time for you to get some studying in.”

Adrien could feel himself light up at the prospect of some time to himself.  Perhaps, after he was sure of his knowledge in Physics, he could check for more permanent job openings or even play around some more on the piano…

“ _Merci_ , Mme. Toupet,” he said as he hurried along.  The on-site head fashion designer merely nodded as the model passed her by.

Adrien made it into the changing tent and found the three outfits as promised, lined up on a table with notes scribbled onto some scraps of paper which lay scattered about to the sides.  He could hear the shuffling of another person in the area and decided to ensure he had his privacy before changing into the first outfit.

The IncidentTM was not something he would care to repeat.

He edged closer to the sound, peering curiously around some fabrics that had fallen somehow.  The design department was often a mess, so he thought nothing of it.

Until he saw a hand attempting to make its way out of the debris.

* * *

Marinette wondered, for the fifth time that morning, how she got herself into these kinds of situations.  While her clumsiness was certainly a large factor, she could also attribute it to her forgetfulness and on again off again luck.

First, she had woken up with ten minutes to spare getting to work and had not noticed the time until she had five minutes to spare.  Bad luck.

Next, she had somehow come to be in the possession of some coffee free of charge—black with three cubes of sugar.  Weird luck.

Then, she had arrived about five minutes late to work and had somehow still gotten on her new boss’s good side because of the oddly procured coffee.  Good luck.

After that, she had managed to pull together the exact outfit that Mme. Toupet had wanted her to, along with some personal touches that she figured would enhance the outfit.  She had a vague idea that their model had blonde hair, green eyes, and a lean build and had played off that.  Mme. Toupet had seemed impressed enough to let her repeat the process twice more.  Good luck.

When Mme. Toupet had left to get the model and get the ball rolling, Marinette had found herself interested in one of the fabrics lining the wall.  Despite having not touched it, the entire rack fell down upon her.

Marinette decided that it was her bad luck acting up this time as she tried to make her way to freedom.

She tried to push away the fabrics as gently as possible (she did _not_ want to have to replace any of this!) when she finally stumbled upon the sunlight once more.  She pushed her other hand out and parted the fabrics as gently as she could, but before she could make an attempt at a graceful exit with minimal damage, a large hand grabbed hers and she felt herself being jerked out of the mess.  Her eyes widened as she felt her entire body practically rip through the cloth and feared the worst.

Well, the worst after getting yanked off the ground by her arm.

“Ow,” she muttered before snapping her hand back and rubbing her wrist.  She was surprised when the other person let go as easily as they did, but that did not completely deter her ire.  “Were you trying to tear my hand off or rip all the fabric in the tent?”

“Uh, I’m sorry.  There was a hand and it was yours, I guess, but I didn’t mean to hurt you, are you all right?  That was a lot of fabric…”

Marinette sighed.  She might be tired, she might be a bit stressed, and her arm might hurt, but there was no mistaking the person’s tone of voice.  It was filled with sincerity and concern.  She looked down at her wrist.  This person had let go when she made to get away and he was not crowding her.  She looked up to face him.

And was hit with the most beautiful emerald eyes she had ever known.  No, emerald was not the right word.  Emeralds were beautiful, but cold gems.  These eyes had a warmth about them, a summer’s sun rising over blades of grass with dew drops hanging from them.  Grass was soft and tickled your feet and made you laugh on a warm day.

“Your eyes are like grass.”

She blanched.  Why, why, _why_ did she just say that?  She shook her head and tried for damage control.  Eyes, eyes, eyes, why would she talk about eyes?  She glanced around the tent, hoping to find something to get her out of this—there!  She stood quickly and made her way to the table, looking over the accessories again.  She had been told green eyes and blonde hair, but now that she had _seen_ the model, she knew that the accessories needed a bit of changing.

“Um…”

“The accessories,” she explained, clinging to her excuse and hoping he would not see her blush.  “They’re generic, but they need to be warm.”

“Warm?” he asked.  She nodded. He was buying it!

“Emeralds are beautiful, but they’re cold.  Grass is—eep!” When did he stand?  When did he get so close?  Why was she freaking out over a model?  Models are supposed to be gorgeous!  She worked with plenty of models at her last internship and they never bothered her!  Why now?

She busied herself with the accessories of the first outfit.  It was meant to fit a sunrise, but the entire outfit she had pulled together would be cast in a wrong light if he wore it like this.  She needed a playful element, something that went with his eyes and how concerned he had been over the possibility of hurting her…

“Got it!” she exclaimed, going through the tent for what she needed.  She had seen it a few moments ago when—aha!

She took the watch and replaced it with another.  Just as suave, but this one had that edge of green around the side.  It was subtle, but it played with colors just enough.  She glanced at the tie.  Completely grey.  That would not do.  She glanced around the tent once more and found something slightly more appropriate.

Before she knew it, the outfit had speckles of green throughout its entire frame.  Green outlying on the watch, green trims on the tie and pockets, and a nice black belt to help temper whatever else she had done to the outfit.  Among other changes.  The entire selection seemed that much more lighthearted and she felt happy about her choices.

“Are you going to get in trouble for changing the outfit?” he asked.  Let it be known that Marinette Dupain Cheng did not jump due to the voice of a person she knew was there the entire time.  No, she had completely forgotten his existence.

“N-no,” she stammered.  “Since it’s g-going to be my job to…um…  yeah, so they gave me some extra time to play w—I mean, to change—what I mean is…  uh…”

“The reason Vincent darling told you to be ready for an extra hour was so our new interns can try piecing together outfits they would like, Adrien.”  Marinette jumped and turned to see Mme. Toupet looking over her shoulder.

_When_ did she show up?

“M-Mme. Toupet!  I—” Marinette sought for another excuse.  She barely managed to avoid questioning from the model earlier, she couldn’t—

“Oh, that makes a little more sense,” the model said.  He smiled kindly at the woman before turning that sort of face to her.

Why did he turn that sort of face to her?!

Oh, help!

“Marinette, I like the playing you’ve done, but you need something to balance all the green you’ve added.  The belt is a nice start, but many people expect belts to be a solid black color.  You need more.”

Thank you, Mme. Toupet!

Wait…

“You mean like more black?  That kind of defeats the purpose…” Marinette said, turning her attention back to her boss with a confused eye.  “I wanted it to be a bit more playful…”

“Playful is something that works best in the makeup and hair department, darling,” Mme. Toupet said.  While her words were reproachful, there was a glint in her eyes that told Marinette that there was still oh so much to learn.  “But I suppose the point of interning in fashion is to find out what works for you, oui?”

Marinette beamed.  “Oui!”

* * *

_What am I doing?_

Her first day had gone off without too many setbacks.  Her new boss was absolutely wonderful and she had met someone who seemed like a genuinely kind person if the way he continued to interact with her throughout the day was any indication.  He had apologized again for startling her and pulling her roughly, even if it was his intention to help instead of harm.  His kindness and sincerity seemed to only enhance his features.  While that caused her trouble in putting him in serious or grey clothing—seriously, who designed those outfits with that particular model in mind?—she had managed to place him in several different looks including playful, serious, sporty, casual, formal, and mysterious.

And he had been such a joy to work with, too.  He was always so polite and helped her out with whatever he could.  A literal perfect gentleman.

So, instead of calling up her best friend and telling her about the wonderful day she had been having, she had come back to the same door she had placed a note in front of yesterday.  Right.  Perfectly logical.

Not.

Still, the mystery was pulling at her. Who lived here, and why was he so good at the piano?  She knew that she herself had picked up the flute as an extra hobby around high school and had gotten somewhat serious about it the year before graduation.  Her skill level had been just enough to earn some extra cash, which had led to her playing for small gigs while going to college, which had led to being told she should enter the nearby contest with a large prize at the end, which had led to her deciding to go for it.

She breathed.  If she could win the contest, she could save it up and be ready for the time when her internship was over and she was ready to strike out on her own and create her own business.  It would be a step in the right direction towards her dream.

But she had no accompaniment, which was why she had even bothered to listen to the gossiping women on the elevator when they mentioned the player who made music throughout the night.  It was why she had sought him out and why she was hoping to ask for his help.

But holy spizcake in a barrel, was she nervous about actually _meeting_ him.  The flute was not her passion by any means, but creating music like that was a wonderful way to pass the time when she needed a break from her beloved designing.  But what if he were some elite pianist who dedicated his whole life to music?  What if he was offended that the flute was some sort of passing hobby for her when she just needed to relax?  What if he hated her for using a contest to further her design career and called her a heretic to the musical world?  What if—

What if he left a note on his door?

Marinette blinked when she saw an envelope taped to the door, a little above her eye level.

_To the Flautist_

What?


	3. Chapter 3, because I don’t know how to stop?

Adrien walked into his apartment, somehow relieved and disappointed to see his note gone from the door.  On the one hand, there was a very high chance that the mysterious flautist—he really needed to find something better to call them (preferably their name)—had been the one to take the note off the door.  On the other, that meant his class had gone on late enough so he would miss meeting them face to face.

Curse his bad luck.

However, he thought as he refilled Plagg’s empty bowl _again_ , he had managed to have more fun at work than he had in a long time.  Vincent and Mme. Toupet’s antics never ceased to entertain and the new intern season was always a time when such antics got heightened, but this was the first time he had ever been able to meet one of the new interns.

Mme. Toupet had told him all about Marinette Dupain Cheng’s impressive resume the second the girl had gotten carried away by the clothing again.  It was obvious that her passion in life lay with fabrics and patterns and he was glad that someone with such heart had made it to work under his father’s company.  It was not an easy feat to accomplish.

Well, no easier than clawing one’s way from underneath a pile of fabrics that collectively weighed more than 35 kilos.  Especially if the person in question could not have been more than 54 kilos herself.  Seriously, how did she manage to get as far as she did?  She ought to have been flattened…

Still, the new intern’s passion over her work and her eye for detail were a few traits which would help her go far.  He hoped he had not frightened her too badly when pulling her out of the wreckage.  She was fun to talk to.

Plagg meowed loudly and Adrien shook such thoughts from his mind.  He would see Marinette again at work tomorrow, but for tonight he wanted to somehow talk to the flautist who had not left him to play alone.

He hoped they would take him up on his offer as he looked over their note again.  A pink background and black dots happily littering the page.  He smiled.

If he tilted his head just enough, he swore he could see a ladybug.

* * *

Marinette sat on her mattress with a visibly relaxed Tikki cuddled in her lap.  The young woman’s hand often strayed to scratch the fur behind her cat’s ears, releasing another wave of comforting purrs.  The action was habitual now, as Marinette and Tikki often fell into this pattern of self-assurance and comfort whenever she was faced with a difficult decision.

Which difficult decision?  Why, the decision presented to her in this note, of course.

_Hello!_

_It’s nice to meet you!  Welcome to the building!  I wasn’t expecting another musician to play with me last night and I have to say I really enjoyed not playing alone!_

_This is a little embarrassing, but part of your note got torn up by my cat.  He doesn’t mean to cause treble, but sometimes he can’t help it.  The part with your name got torn, so I’m unlucky enough to not know who you are. ^^;_

_If you get this note, I’ll be playing ‘One Summer’s Day’ from the movie Spirited Away.  If you know it, feel free to play along.  I’ll play it every half hour until midnight (that’s when the neighbors have asked me to switch to the keyboard and headphones, un-fur-tunately).  After that, maybe we can have a coffee in the lobby?  Maybe we can have an introduction then!_

_I really look forward to meeting you!_

_:D_

The signature below was so messy she could not possibly make heads or tails of it.  The huge loop at the beginning could have been an A or a C, but there was no way for her to tell.  What she could discern was that he left no last name.

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably at the decision before her.

She knew an arrangement of _One Summer’s Day_.  One of her former instructors had loved the movie and director so much that the young student had decided to learn the piece just to surprise her.  She knew the music was in one of these boxes lying around, but the question remained as to whether or not she should meet this person.

The note seemed friendly enough, and it _was_ her who reached out first…

Music drifted through the window above her and she bit her lip.  She wondered if she would reach a decision by midnight.  To ignore both the summons and the music in order to remain in the safety of her own apartment, or to take a chance, play, and quite possibly meet this… this…

She glanced at the note again, sifting through its contents for something she could call him.  A cat…  unlucky…  _puns…_ both cat and music puns…

She sighed.

Would she take a chance and meet this Chat Noir?

* * *

Adrien chanced another look at the window.  He had been playing for the past three hours and this was his last chance for a duet with the mysterious flautist.  Given the silence he had been treated with all night, he felt particularly down about his chances, yet he could not bring himself to give up.

 _One more time_ , he hoped to himself.  _Maybe it’ll happen if I do it one more time…_

He glanced through his open window, briefly taking note that Plagg had approached the window and was sniffing about it curiously.  Adrien chuckled.  If Plagg made it outside the apartment, he would probably make it back easily.  The cat, after all, had lived in this apartment longer than he.

But that was a story for another time.  For now, Adrien lifted his hands to the piano and softly struck a chord.

The tune carried itself on a breeze, light and fair.  Forlorn and bright at the same time.  Gentle and moving and free.

The pure emotion of weightless relief was one of the reasons he loved this song so much.  It was a joy to play and it was something he wished desperately to share.  Perhaps that was why it sounded so…

…melancholy.

A beat.  A written in pause before he allowed the piano to murmur another chord.

Music floated away from his piano and out into the night sky, but it was soon repaid by the sound of a flute.

Ladybug came through! Her notes were uncertain for two beats, but gathering strength.  Soon, the flute was a powerful force of nature, bringing to him a joy that had been dimming for the past few years.  A joy that could be experienced by the discovery of good music.  What a freeing feeling.

Ladybug’s notes were whimsical and light, dancing delicately atop the base chords he provided.  They climbed higher and higher and floated with a precision of a practiced musician.  They filled his soul with a joy that he had almost given up hope on being able to appreciate.

The joy of making music with another human being.

Slow and beautiful, calming yet so entirely free.  The flute made confident strides around his piano, bringing him to a land of nostalgia and everlasting kindness.  Where dreams existed alongside the strange and mysterious.  Where one could be brave and fierce, where love was a gentle yet powerful force.

Poetry always came easier to him when he played.  When he _felt_ the music run through his fingertips and into the air.  But it was even more powerful now that he had someone to enjoy this magic with.

The time had flown away from him in this play through, and it was not long before a single note, remnant of the flute itself, hung alone in the air, taking with it the magic it had brought.

Adrien blinked.

He blinked again.

It was now midnight.  If he played any more, the neighbors would complain and there was a strong possibility he could be fined for any sort of continued—however unintentional—defiance.  Any other music would have to be made on the keyboard.

Well, it would if his plans included more piano playing.

“Wish me luck, Plagg,” he grinned as he turned around for his coat.  The cat opened one green eye and yawned before turning away, nuzzling his own face into his fur as if to shy away from the waking world.  Adrien, however, would not allow his mood to be dampened by his less than enthusiastic compatriot.  “I’ll see you soon!”

Adrien checked his pockets for his apartment keys—he would _not_ forget those again—and reassured himself that they had not left their spot.  He reached the door and opened it quickly.

And was slapped in the face by a piece of pink paper.

_What…?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom.
> 
> https://youtu.be/r5Nl6QZRg0c?t=1


	4. Chapter 4:  Because I decided to make this a long story… wheeee  X’D

He supposed this was what he got for asking his black cat for good luck.

“I’m back, Plagg,” Adrien announced sullenly as he closed his apartment door.  He could _feel_ his cat’s condescending nature, teasing him slightly about the fact that he had never actually made it out of said apartment.  The envelope was identical to the one that had started these midnight musicals, though the address was quite different.  “To Chat Noir?  I thought I signed my name…”

Adrien set his coat back on the hanger and shuffled back to his piano.  The bench was good for sitting, even if he was not playing.  He tore into the letter.

_Dear Chat Noir,_

_Thanks for the warm welcome, though I think I could have lived my whole life without so many puns in one letter.  Still, it’s nice to know that you’re a joker instead of some stuffy old man who thinks all music all the time._

_I bet you’re wondering why I called you ‘Chat Noir’ instead of your real name.  To be perfectly honest, I can’t read your signature.  The first letter was either an A or C, so I went with a nickname that fits that and what else I found in your note.  You have a cat and you said you were ‘unlucky’, so I thought maybe Chat Noir would work._

_Your version of ‘One Summer’s Day’ is really beautiful.  When I play—I plan to go back after this is done and join you in a minute—I hope it’s as good as what you’re expecting.  I suppose you’ve been on the piano for years, given how everyone around the building knows exactly which room is the one with the music._

_Though the woman I asked said that if I was going to cause half as much a racket as you after midnight, she would waste no time filing a complaint.  Do you deal with that often?_

_I’m looking forward to playing with you!_

Adrien read the letter twice.  Three times.  Four times.  Plagg decided to declare his sudden desire for food when he hit his seventh read through.  The cat pawed at his pants leg, demanding attention with narrowed eyes.

“Hold on a second, Plagg,” the young man said softly, still trying to wrap his head around the note itself.  His request was ignored as the cat meowled loudly and pushed even more insistently upon his leg.

“Plagg…”

Another loud cry.  It was dramatic and whining.

“Plagg.”

The cat dropped to the ground, whining even more loudly.

Adrien sighed and got to his feet.  “Fine.”

A black blur streaked into the kitchen at least ten times the speed of his owner.  Adrien chuckled and shook his head at his cat’s antics.  Plagg was always plenty mischievous, especially when it came to his food.  He supposed that a cat who always kept him on his toes was a good balance for him.  Plagg’s erratic yet somehow understandable nature had helped Adrien to break himself free from following tight schedules when he had first moved into the apartment.  Because of that cat, he had learned to roll with the punches fairly well and found himself happier than he ever had been before because of it.

There was no noise of thanks when Plagg dug into his meal, but Adrien expected it.  Instead of showing companionship in normal ways during the day, the cat would always come by later to fall asleep on his chest.  Or, at the very least, usher him into his room and proceed to lay on his chest with an insistent purr until his chosen charge had gone to sleep.  He was sure it was Plagg’s way of caring for his human companion.

_Well, at least someone cares_ , the young man thought with friendly sarcasm as he chuckled at his cat.  The same cat who had earned him that rather odd nickname.

“Chat Noir, huh…?” he wondered aloud, thinking the note over. 

Was the situation ideal?  No.  Was it what he expected?  Not really.  Was he unhappy with the person’s response?

_Ladybug_ , he reminded himself with a soft smile as he gathered a piece of paper and a pen.

Was he unhappy with Ladybug’s response?  Not in the slightest.

He began to write.

* * *

 

“I’m going to be late!”

Marinette scrambled around her room, looking for something professional to wear for her second day of work.  Honestly, if she had work the next day, she ought not to be playing in the middle of the night!  There were priorities, responsibilities!

“Where’s my other sock?”

Even if it _was_ fun, she would have to curtail her night time playing. If only for her own sanity.

“How did _that_ get there?  I don’t remember unpacking _that_!”

Marinette raced for her flats in an effort to shave a few seconds off her preparation time.  Her phone chimed happily as she scrambled.

“Where’s my—AH!”

Marinette shook her head as she tried to get back up to her clumsy two left feet.  These boxes needed to be organized and taken care of or she would really hurt herself!

Tikki meowed from her perch near her charge’s phone.  The ginger cat helpfully nudged the item towards her clumsy companion and the item clattered to the floor in front of the ravenette’s face.

“Thanks, Tikki,” Marinette said.  She smiled as she reached up to give her friend a loving pat on the head before turning to her phone.  The contact burned against her retinas and she gulped.

It was Mme. Toupet.  She answered the call.

“Marinette, I know I’ve called an hour early, but are you anywhere near the shoot?”

Marinette.exe has stopped working.  Early?  What?

“Marinette?  Hello?”

“I-no, I mean, I can be, but an hour—”

“Yes, I apologize for that, but we’re in a jam and need you to come in a bit sooner than expected.  Can you do that?”

Marinette.exe has rebooted.  Systems running smoothly.  Malware “late” removed.

“O-of course I can!” Marinette exclaimed.  She could cry in joy.  She wasn’t late!  She could hear her manager’s laugh on the other side of the line.

“Excellent,” Mme. Toupet chirped.  “Come by as soon as you can and get ready to try something new!”

Marinette breathed easier when the phone disconnected and the call was over with.  She turned to her cat and grinned.  “Tikki, that was so close!  I thought I was late!”

Tikki meowed in that patient way of hers.  Marinette smiled and wasted no more time in getting ready, easily finding her shoes and a croissant from her parents’ bakery to fill her stomach.  She checked on Tikki’s food and water before heading out of the apartment with a fond farewell to her feline friend.

 Marinette walked as swiftly as she could to the stairway and made her way down.  She would rather not wait for the elevator if she could just take the stairs.  Besides, there was really no other way to work out the jitters she had built up in her frantic morning of believing she was late.

She supposed that was her own fault.  She often set two morning alarms.  One to wake her up and the other to remind her to go to work.  Her bad luck dictated that she often slept straight through the first and groggily forced herself to wake up for the second.

How many times would she have to repeat the pattern until she learned?

Still, her alarm for work wasn’t due for another hour.  What could have woken her—

_Hey, hey, you, you, I don’t like your girlfriend!  No way, no—_

The sudden ringtone startled Marinette and she hastily grabbed for the inside of her jacket.  The song continued to blare loudly until the noirette could grab a hold of her phone and hit the call button.

“There you are!  I thought I’d have to come barging to your new place to wake up the sleeping zombie!”

“Alya,” Marinette scolded with a relieved chuckle.  “How many times did you call me this morning?”

“I stopped counting after seven,” the woman on the other side of the line admitted.  Marinette groaned as she kept going down the stairs.  “Not my fault you sleep like the dead.”

“Shut up,” Marinette groaned with a slight chuckle.  How could someone be so annoying from two countries away?  “Don’t you have some important Austria thing to report on or something?”

“Oh, didn’t you hear?  I’m back in town.”

Wait…

“Are you serious!?” Marinette asked over the phone.  “When did you get in?  Why didn’t you tell me? Where are you right now?”

“About to catch you.”

“Wha—Aiieee!”

Marinette, in her excitement, had missed the next step.  She was going to fall.  She was going to get a bruise.  No, wait, she was going to break her arm and then she wouldn’t be able to go into work and then Mme. Toupet would think her irresponsible and she could just say goodbye to that internship and even goodbye to her future career as a fashion designer and she would never get her own boutique and she would be kicked out of her apartment and live in the streets and—

“You can open your eyes now,” a familiar voice laughed from in front of her.  Marinette opened her eyes.  No pain.  She blinked.  Plaid.  She looked up.

“Alya!”

“Hey, girl,” the woman grinned with her usual air of confidence.  That confidence had been well-earned and Marinette could not be happier to see her best friend since lycreé.  She quickly scrambled up to her full height to wrap her in a hug.

“I missed you!” Marinette chirped.  “When were you going to tell me you were back?”

“Probably when I rang your doorbell if you hadn’t answered your phone by then.  But then you actually woke up,” Alya teased, returning the hug with equal force.  “It’s so good to see you again.  You free for some coffee?”

“I’d love to, but I can’t.  I was actually on my way to work,” Marinette admitted as she pulled away, adult responsibilities coming back to her once more.  “The boss called me while I was panicking.”

“Drat.  Foiled by the boss,” Alya said as she snapped her fingers.  The two girls giggled as they made their way to the door.  “Well, I’m not going to be the one to unpack your boxes while you’re not home.  Gimme a call when you’re out of work and we can do that later.  I expect pizza.”

“Hey, I’ve been in that apartment for a few days now,” Marinette retorted.  “I could have unpacked for myself.”

“Have you?” Alya chuckled.

Marinette hesitated, looking everywhere except the friend who knew her best.  Alya laughed at her received answer.  “You’re so predictable, girl.  Anyway, I should probably restock my apartment and do adult responsibility stuff until we can talk.  What time do you get off?”

“Could be anywhere from three to four,” Marinette admitted.  “If you help me with unpacking, I’ll get you your own pizza and we can share a tub of ice cream tonight.”

“I’m sold,” Alya smiled.  “Grocery store’s that way, but I’ll see you in a few hours.  Remember, I want all the juicy details on your new job!  Don’t you skimp on me, Marinette!”

The raven haired girl laughed.  “Wouldn’t dream of it!”


	5. Chapter 5, because I’m a glutton for punishment…

_Brrrrr…  brrrrrr…_

When he was a child, his father had implemented a strict schedule for him to adhere to.

_Brrrrr…  brrrrr…_

Such a schedule often required that he wake up no later than six o’clock in the morning and forced him to be fully alert by the time he left his room at six o’five.

_Brrrr…  brrrrr…_

He had not lived in his father’s house in three years.

_Brrr…_

So why—

_Brrr…_

—on an off day—

_Brrrr…_

—was someone expecting him to be awake—

_Brrrrrr…_

—at nine in the morning!?

 _Brr—_ “Hey, this is Adrien!  I’m probably doing work or school right now, so leave a message at the beep and I’ll get right back to you!  Beep!  Haha!”

Finally, some res—

“Yo, Adrien!  I thought you’d be up by now, but I guess not.  Anyways, when you get this message, call me back.  I’ve got some sick news for you, dude!”

By now, Adrien was begrudgingly awake, blearily glaring at his phone for whatever it was worth.  Three all-nighters in a row were taking their toll on the young man, but he could not remain mad at his best friend for too long.  They were, after all, bros till death do they part.

Adrien reached for his phone, unsurprised when Plagg oh-so-helpfully shoved the device off his nightstand.  The blond gave a weak glare towards the troublemaking feline, who only returned with as much of a mischievous smirk as a cat could manage.

“You’re impossible,” Adrien muttered.

Plagg meowed in return.

Adrien’s hand shuffled against the ground, running across clothes that had been strewn across the floor.  While not overly messy, Adrien had to admit that letting his clothes fall onto the ground rather than hang them and press them immediately was slightly gratifying.  Clothes for work often got hung with care, but clothes to relax in could often be found crumpled in a heap somewhere.  And truth be known, he loved it that way.

_Brrrr…brrrr…_

There it was!

Adrien wrapped his fingers around the vibrating phone and swiped the screen to accept the call.

“Ninoooo,” Adrien groaned at the screen.  His best friend had the decency to look slightly ashamed at the young man’s bedhead and obvious reluctance to face the light of day.  “This couldn’t have waited another few hours or so?”

“Sorry, man.  But don’t you have physics class today?”

Adrien groaned.  Nino was his best friend in all things, even in mother henning.  However—

“Email from the teacher.  Class cancelled today.  Sleep,” the model groaned.  Nino visibly wrinkled his nose.

“Dude, how late were you playing last night?” he asked.

“No later than normal,” Adrien yawned. 

“Uh-huh.  Did you get any sleep night before last?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“Enough.”

“Dude.”

“Yes?” Adrien asked.  To his amusement and victory, Nino let out a frustrated groan.  A sleepy grin made its residence upon his shining face.  “So, you said that there was some ‘sick news’?”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure if I should tell you.  Maybe I’ll just hang up and go practice my beats,” Nino said.

“You wouldn’t do that to me,” Adrien grinned.

“Wanna bet?”

“Aw, c’mon, Nino…”

Hold it…

“Ninooo….”

Hold it…

“Niiiiiinoooooooo…”

Hoooold iiiiit…

Yes!

“You’re lucky those kitten eyes are half too cute to resist and half the freakiest thing I’ve ever seen.  How do you get your pupils that big, anyways?” Nino asked.  His face was a contortion of impressed and slightly horrified.  Adrien smirked happily.

“That’s for me to know and for you to never find out,” he replied.  Nino got away with a few grumbles before he got back to the matter at hand.  “So, sick news?”

“Right,” Nino complied.  “So you know all those karaoke contests I DJ for all over town? The ones with cash prizes?”

“You know I don’t sing and you said you’d stop trying to get me to,” Adrien groaned, flopping backwards on his bed with an air of drama that only his best friend could appreciate.

It was appreciated with a roll of eyes.

“Yeah, but what if I said I know a guy who’s MCing for something like that?”

“Good for him,” Adrien responded, faux enthusiasm coloring his voice as he gave a weak fist pump.  Sleep was beckoning him still…  “Still not singing.  Last time was a disaster.”

“Oh, stop living in the past,” Nino chided.  “Besides, this isn’t for singing.  It’s for classical instruments.”

Adrien lifted his phone up to eye level and frowned, the full effect of his disbelieving deadpan focused entirely on his friend beyond the screen.  “Classical instrument contest?”

“With a cash prize, dude!”

“Why are you telling me?” Adrien asked.  “I don’t really need a cash prize…”

“Come on, dude!” Nino pleaded.  “For starters, I thought it’d be something you’d like to do for fun or something.  If you win, that’d be cool, but even if you didn’t it’d be something to do just for _fun_.”

“You already said for fun,” Adrien pointed out.

“Do you need another reason, dude?” Nino laughed.  Adrien laughed alongside him.  “Come on, man.  I know work and school has you all stressed out.  Plus you’re always trying to see which schools are going to have openings for you when you get your degree.  Checking every month or so is bordering on fine and into weird, but you do it every _week_.”

“You make me sound like a workaholic.”

“Which is why doctor Nino is prescribing one fun activity.  Dude, it doesn’t even have to be the contest. Just something you can enjoy, something you can look forward to and enjoy and _be_ , ya’know?”

Adrien did know, sort of.  He knew that music, while not his true passion, was one of those rare moments where he was not any person famous.  He was just himself.  A man with a random job who lived in a random apartment who played with his whole heart and soul until his neighbors called the cops.

Adrien had to chuckle at that.  Music seemed to come with a bit of mischief for him, which suited him just fine.  Maybe a contest would be fun after all…

“I’ll think about it,” he finally promised.  Nino smirked with an air of confidence that Adrien could practically feel through the phone.  “Anything else you wanted to talk about since you have me up?”

“Nah, dude, that was it.  I’ll let you get back to your much needed beauty rest, then,” Nino teased, wincing away from the phone in exaggeration.  “I can’t believe I was able to stare at you for that long.”

“Gee, Nino, I can feel the love,” Adrien replied, basking in his friend’s sarcastic reply.  Nino chuckled before waving to his camera. Adrien returned the gesture with a swift goodbye before hanging up and tossing his phone onto the ground.  He turned over on his bed, finding a nice and comfortable spot.  Time for sleeping…

_Brrrr…_

Oh, for the love of—

* * *

“…so that’s how work went,” Marinette concluded as she opened yet another box.  “I’m pretty sure it’s just going to be more of the same for the next few months until I’m really settled.”

“Girl, I’m so proud of you,” Alya called out from the kitchen.  “Not every budding fashion designer can say they’ve worked with Agreste’s _best_!  And I do mean their _best_ …”

Marinette groaned.  She really should have kept that particular tidbit to herself.  But who would help her through her boy troubles if not her best friend?  She glanced towards Tikki, who was currently amusing herself with some spare string on the floor.  She could have always gone to her cat for advice…  Like Tikki would ever steer her wrong…

“But judging from this little note on the counter, it looks like monsieur grass-green eyes isn’t the only new boy in your life, huh girl?”

Marinette’s eyes shot open.

The _note!_   She had picked it up off the door on her way back to her apartment.

She hadn’t read it yet!!!

“Alya, _wait_ —!”

Marinette bounded into the small kitchenette, eyes wide and her heart rate going at about a million miles an hour!  Okay, so perhaps not quite that fast, but the girl was nervous.

Turns out she need not have been.  Alya stood in her kitchen, triumphant, with a sealed envelope in her hand and a knowing smirk on her face.

Sometimes, Marinette hated that smirk.

“So, wanna tell me who ‘Ladybug’ is supposed to be?” the girl asked, flipping the envelope over.  Her best friend’s face morphed into that of reluctant humor when she saw the back of the packet.  “Music puns?  Really?”

“He—he’s a pianist who lives in the building,” Marinette spluttered, trying to cover.  Cover for what, she had no idea.  “I—I was going to ask him for some help with the contest, but…um…”

“Lemme guess.  You chickened out,” Alya assumed.  Marinette could only nod. She had done many brave things in her life.  She had gone for her dream in the arts when many would press her to follow a backup plan of sorts.  She had run for president in all of her classes since lycreé.  She was not afraid to burst out of the norms to express herself through fashion.  She was never afraid of being a leader or a comforter.

But those events usually only happened when there was a need for them to happen.  Classes needed a leader that wasn’t the school bully.  After the first year, she was just always put up for the position and did her best to succeed in it.  Marinette’s desire for the world of fashion came from a need to express herself and a desire to create something unique that she could share with the world, but somehow keep for herself.  And when she had started on her dream, her stubborn nature would let her find several ‘backup plans’ that fell in line with her dream and led her exactly to where she wanted to go.  Leading and comforting others also came only when the situation called for it.

But this?  This was something she fought herself on.  Was it necessary?  No.  So why do it?

She looked at her hands.

“Girl,” Alya tisked.  “You remember when you told me about the contest.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“You told me you were going to do it.”

Again:  not a question.

“Yes.”

“You told me you were going to get an accompanist.  Even if it was one of those accompanists provided by the school for competitions like this.”

Not a question, but that did remind her.  She had a choice.  She had laid out plans.  She had given her future self a choice.  To find an accompanist on her own or to go to a resource where she knew one would be provided, completely free of any sort of judgement on what she chose to do with her music afterwards.

She had a choice.

“Yes,” she said.

“So you can go to this guy for help or you can go to the school,” Alya reminded her.  “Since you haven’t gone to the school, I know you’re at least thinking about doing it with this guy for some reason or another, and it looks like he doesn’t even know your name.”

Marinette could not have stopped the laugh that bubbled out of her.  Trust Alya to be observant enough to catch onto that.

“And you didn’t tell me his name, so either you’re covering for him or you don’t know either.  And given the fact that you’re still stuck on whether or not to ask him for help, I’m gonna say you wouldn’t hide the name of someone you’re unsure about from your best friend.  Do you know his name?”

The first question of the evening.

“No…” she responded.  Marinette glanced down at her hands.  What was she doing?  She needed to find an accompanist soon, or they would not be able to perform for the competition.  She wanted to join, and she never backed down when she wanted to do something.  She almost never came to an indecision when it came to her plans, yet here she was, at a crossroads because she was nervous.

She was nervous.

She had been nervous to try her first stitching project.  Look where that led her.  At an internship with one of the most prestigious fashion companies in the world.

She had been nervous to run as a president in lycreé.  Look where that led her.  With a best friend several years down the road who willingly took time to help her unpack both her boxes and her life.

She had been nervous before.  Each time she had overcome.  Each time it had led to something great.  So really, what was stopping her now?

“I know the look in your eye, girl,” Alya stated.  Marinette met her best friend’s stare head-on, an idea forming in her mind.

Marinette grabbed the note.


	6. Chatper 6:  Because I decided that I don’t hate myself and I want to wrap this up

Alya knew her best friend.  She knew her best friend for several years.  She knew that once her best friend had a goal in mind and a plan to get what she wanted, then she would go for it.  All Marinette would ever need was the reassurance that the world would not blow up if she simply _tried_ for what she wanted.

Even _if_ picking on each other had become a sisterly past time between the two, Alya knew that she would have her girl’s back.

She sat in Marinette’s apartment and played with Tikki, waiting.

* * *

_Dear Ladybug,_

She stood in her position, willing herself to go through with this somewhat asinine plan.

_What can I say?  It’s always nice to have a new neighbor!  But I’m a-furr-aid if you don’t quite like my puns, you’re in for some edu-cat-ion in the subject!  XD_

Her case felt like a weight in her arms, but she squared her shoulders.

_Sorry about that.  I didn’t realize my signature got so messy.  Still, if you want to call me Chat Noir, I guess you can.  But since you didn’t sign your name either, I guess you might want to go anonymous?  You’ll have to let meow know.  :3_

The note, having been read over and over again, burned in her pocket.

_You played beautifully, though!  I’m just happy I’m not playing alone.  Usually I go a few nights a week until curfew.  Music absolutely no treble for me, but it’s always so much better with a fur-iend._

She checked her watch.

_I actually do need sleep, though, so I won’t be playing as late. Tonight, I’m going to be playing Arrietty’s Song from ‘The Secret World of Arrietty’.  I haven’t actually seen the movie myself, but I found the music online and it’s pretty.  I saw a couple trailers, too.  Maybe we could watch it together sometime?  You know, if we figure out a way to meet that you’re comfortable with, of course._

She ran over the music in her mind.  She had spent the last few hours up to this point reviewing.

_Also, the neighbors are like that, but they mean well.  I think._

This was a terrible idea.

_I hope you’ll join in tonight, LB!_

The piano would begin soon.

_Sincerely, Chat Noir!  :3_

* * *

Adrien sat in front of his piano.  Plagg curled around his feet and meowed incessantly, regardless of the fact that he had been fed no less than ten minutes beforehand.  The blond haired man rolled his eyes before scooping the cat into his arms, quickly scratching at that favorite spot behind Plagg’s ears so as not to get scratched himself.

Plagg began to purr and Adrien smiled.  It was so rare that his cat let him openly pet him, he had learned to enjoy it while it lasted.

While the boy let his fingers dance through his cat’s fur, he looked at the piano before him, the day’s events catching up to him.  The phone call after Nino’s had been Mme. Toupet, asking if he was free to model for the new girl.  The elder woman had said that while her designs looked all right on Francis, the model they had on hand for the day, they did not quite pop as well as they had with him.  Since Adrien had heard the girl’s protests in the background, he knew that it was not her idea to bother him early in the morning.  It had been Mme. Toupet’s.

That was how he had agreed to spend a majority of the day with one Marinette Dupain-Cheng, watching as her quirky ideas came to life.  Her focus, unlike other interns he had worked with, was comfort first, function following, and appearance last.

When he had asked her why, she had responded with one of the strangest thing he had ever heard an aspiring fashion designer say.

_“Clothes always look better on a person who enjoys to be wearing them.  So if the model is comfortable and happy, then the clothes look comfortable and happy, too.  Everyone wants to look like a model, which is why clothes sell when we use them, but… wouldn’t it just be nice if everyone could feel like a model when they just felt happy in their own skin and clothing?”_

It was such a vastly different perspective than his father’s that such a thought process interested Adrien, to say the least.  Instead of turning him into some unattainable vision of perfection meant to garner profit, Marinette wanted to turn him into someone just like everyone else.  Someone who liked to be in their own skin and clothes.

It felt like the start of a beautiful friendship, if only she would actually look at him.  But at least she had stopped stuttering, the trait that had been gained and, evidently, forgotten after day one. Adrien was hopeful of that progress, at least.

Plagg nipped at Adrien’s finger, pulling him to the present.

“Plagg, I need that,” Adrien scolded.  The black cat in his lap only meowed in response, lazily grazing his teeth against his charge’s finger once more.  Adrien moved his hand to the top of Plagg’s head and scratched it quickly before withdrawing it.

Plagg, in true Plagg fashion, leapt off the human’s lap and darted into the kitchen.  Adrien shook his head with a smile.

“You really are a trouble-maker, you know that?” the young man asked.  Plagg’s response was a meow.  Adrien chuckled.  Trouble-maker?  Yes. Worth it?  Yup.

The clock on his right chimed, marking seven o’clock.

His fingers pressed down on the keys.

* * *

She heard the notes from across the door and her fingers shook.  But this was her plan, these were her guns, and she was sticking to them.

_1…2…_

She set her case gently on the ground, pulling the flute out.

_3…4…_

She took a deep breath to calm herself.  The tremor in her hands died away for a moment.

_5…6…_

She exhaled softly and licked her lips.  It would not do to come all this way and trip over the notes due to lack of air flow.

_7…8…_

Okay, and she was nervous, but this…

_9…_

This was where she was meant to play.

 _10_.

* * *

What Adrien expected was for the soft melodious flute to make its way through his open window. What he expected was, perhaps, even running through the song once or twice before he would hear it.  What he expected was not what he got.

The sound he got was louder and coming from the wrong direction.  The surprise broke his concentration and his hand slipped onto keys where they ought not to have gone.  The flute squeaked from the other side of the door.

_The other side of the door!_

_His_ door!

Ladybug was _right_ there!

The chair he had been using bumped harshly against his calves in his haste to stand, but he paid it little mind.  He scurried out from behind the piano and made his way to the door.  His own front door!

Ladybug was standing _right_ on the other side!

But…did Ladybug want him to open the door?  They had seemed…well…they had seemed apprehensive at best about meeting.  What had changed their mind?  Did they even change their mind?  What was he supposed—

A piece of paper slipped into his field of vision.  When had he started to look at the ground?

He reached down and picked up the piece of paper, wasting no time in opening it.

_Hey, Chat Noir._

_Is it okay if we meet?  Knock twice for no._

Knock…  knock twice for _no_?  For _no_?  He flipped over the card, hoping that there would be some sort of alternate instructions. There were none.  Who only gives instructions for _no_?  What if no was the absolute last thing on his mind?

“What…”

Note:  his voice did _not_ crack.  Nope. Not at all.

He tried again.

“What if I really want to meet you?”  He glanced at the doorknob.  Would it be okay to just open the door?  What if they wanted warning?  His fingers dusted the knob.

“Um…  open the door, I guess?”

The voice on the other side of the door sounded female, but he couldn’t really be sure.  But other than that revelation, he could detect the doubt in her (he was going with ‘her’ until stated otherwise) voice.  The hesitation.

“What about you?” he asked.  His fingers twitched and he gripped the door handle.  It killed him to put off what he wanted to know, to put off knowing the person who had begun to stave off the loneliness that had begun to creep into his music, but there was no way he was going to force anyone into doing something they weren’t sure on.  He would never be that person.  Even if he wanted to know Ladybug, he would never force her to be in a position where she didn’t have a choice.

“What about me?” asked Ladybug.

“Well…” said Adrien. “You just seemed a little hesitant about meeting face-to-face. I just want to make sure you’re one hundred percent okay with this.”

A sigh could be heard across the door and Adrien held his breath.  The handle twitched beneath his grasp.

Whatever witnesses (cough cough Plagg cough) might say, he did not jump.  Nope.  Not at all.

“Are you holding the door handle?”  Adrien blinked.  That was not at all what he was expecting.

“Yeah?”

“Okay, then maybe we can open the door together.  If I want to stop, I’ll pull the door shut.  If you want to stop, you’ll push it closed.  This way, we’ll know if this is something we both want to do, okay?”

Adrien looked at the door handle.  On the other side was someone who had so quickly become one of his best friends. And if this went well, then they would most likely become even closer.

Right?

“Okay,” agreed Adrien. The doorknob wiggled beneath his grasp. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” breathed Ladybug. “On three?”

“Sure.”

A breath passed before Ladybug began the count off.

“One…” said Ladybug.

“Two…” breathed Adrien.

“Three.”

* * *

“And so now she’s downstairs actually meeting this guy,” said Alya as she continued to run her hand across Tikki’s fur.  Her boyfriend chuckled from the other side of the screen, his face thoroughly unapologetic.

“You know, now that I know what building ‘Nette’s in, I’m pretty sure I know who the dude is,” mused Nino.  Alya, ever the one for any and all information, pounced.

“Really?  Is it someone we know?”

“I do, from, like, lycreé.”

“Ninoooo…”

“You know, it’s a lot of fun to keep information from you.”

“Ni- _no_ …”

“Ni- _yes_.”

“Tell me.”

“But where would my fun be, then?”

“I’ll show you fun,” growled Alya into the phone.  Her boyfriend gave an almost overly dramatic gasp and placed his free hand over his heart, feigning injury.

“Be still my beating heart,” he breathed.  “My girlfriend’s teasing knows no bounds.”

“You got that right. So are you gonna tell me or not?” Nino hummed without comment.  Alya groaned. “You’re a nightmare, you know that?”

Nino could only shrug. “Come on, babe. You know I wouldn’t keep it from you if it were dangerous.”

“But it _is_ dangerous, Nino.  It’s dangerous to my baby girl’s _future_ ,” Alya moaned.  To her irritation, he laughed.  “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

“Right now I do.”

“Ouch, wounded by the queen,” sassed Nino.  After seeing his girlfriend’s unamused face, he relented.  “Okay, okay.  You remember that kid I met in lycree?  The one who couldn’t get his dad to let him go to school?”

“Your emotionally oppressed princess charming?” asked Alya, a disbelieving eyebrow raised.

“That’s the one. He’s been living in that building for about three years now and kind of drives his neighbors a bit crazy.  Nice guy, though.  I’m really hoping that he and ‘Nette get along.  We could start a band!”

Alya had to laugh. “A pianist, a floutist, a modern DJ, and a reporter start a band.  When’s the punchline?”

Nino laughed. “It’s when the emotionally oppressed princess charming and the brave knight klutz fall in love, eventually having a double wedding with their far better and wiser best friends.”

Alya snorted.  Nino looked personally affronted.

“You know the chances of that happening are about a million to one, right?”

“Just wait, you non-believer,” grinned Nino.  “You’ll ship it.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Alya shot back.

* * *

In.  Out.  In. Out.

Inhale.  Exhale.

Do not scream.

“Aaahhh?”

Good job, Marinette. You didn’t scream.

“Aaahhh?”

Great job, Marinette. You broke him.

 _To be fair_ , thought Marinette faintly.   _He broke me first._

“Ah?” she questioned.

“Ah,” he repeated.

Well.  Wasn’t this a stimulating conversation?

Marinette opened her mouth to try again.  To say something intelligent.  To say anything worthwhile.  Something Ladybug would say.

“I was not expecting Chat Noir to be handsome.”

ABORT ABORT ABORT!

“Wha—?”

“Not to say that I thought Chat Noir was ugly, I just didn’t give any thought to it?  All I knew was Chat Noir loves these puns that are just awful and that he has a black cat and that he plays piano so long that he annoys his neighbors enough to need a curfew and that he’s a really friendly person. I just didn’t think about what Chat Noir actually _looked_ like because it didn’t matter, so I didn’t think he—sorry, I didn’t think you were ugly, I just didn’t know? It wasn’t important, you just played very well and you were pretty nice to me despite me being new and all and please stop me I’m rambling again…”

Silence reigned supreme throughout the hallway.

Would hitting her head against the wall make her weirder than he probably thought she was?  She chanced a glance at the wall, and then at him, and then back at the wall again.   _Better not.  Too risky._

“I didn’t know you played the flute.”

Marinette was jolted from her thoughts.  She glanced to the flute she still held in her hand.  She had not put it back in its case, so the silver of it gleamed in the dim hallway lights.

“Ah, yes, that…” stammered Marinette.  “It’s not a huge passion of mine, but it’s fun to do on the side, you know?  As long as it doesn’t bug people, I mean…”

A snort.

What?

Marinette looked up to her neighbor—no, to Chat Noir—no, to Adrien.  This was already confusing.  But never mind all that!

Was he laughing at her?

A frown spread across her face.  Okay, so she probably wasn’t what he was expecting, but there was no need to be rude about it!  Why did this guy make her nervous?  Now he was just making her mad!

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.  She turned to grab her case.

“Wait, don’t go.”

Annoyed as she was at his reaction, she thought that perhaps she had been just a touch too hasty. Still, she frowned at her reception.

“I’ll leave if you laugh at me again.”

“Sorry, it’s just… bugging?  Like, Ladybug?”

Marinette stopped, her eyebrow raised.  This was more like the image she’d built up of Chat Noir.  Adrien stood there, with a grin on his face that somehow looked bashful (and beautiful, frig it!) and entirely too pleased with himself.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“In-claw-rrigible, you mean?”

Marinette groaned, but couldn’t keep her grin down.  She put her hand up to her forehead.  “How did I ever think you were cool?”

“You did?” he asked. Marinette looked at him.  He looked so excited, if only a little hesitant. Like he wanted to know, but also wanted to continue their banter.

Their banter.

He really was Chat, wasn’t he?  She looked past his shoulder and saw a piano standing in the middle of a messy room, next to an open window.  If she had needed any more proof, there it was.

Chat was someone she sort of knew.  She knew that he was kind enough to give away a day off to help the new intern.  She knew he was respectful enough to let her work like crazy.  She knew he was inquisitive, helpful, respectful, but she also knew he was funny, had horrible puns, and played music that could range from a sad, melancholy feel to something hopeful and wonderful.

She only knew this much, but she wanted to know so much more.

“Marinette?” asked Adrien, pulling her out of her thoughts.  He had a hesitant smile on his face and it caused her heart to pick up speed just a bit.  “Would you like to come in?”

The girl smiled, realizing this was probably the start of something absolutely amazing.  Possibly even miraculous.

“Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so that’s the end because I literally have nothing else to add. X’D If y’all wanna take this up and move it forward, be my guest! But I kinda like ending it with this reveal and a sense of a continued partnership in the future. Y’all can imagine it, but I’m kinda out. X’D Sorry, and thank you guys for sticking with it! *^_^*


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